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It all began on a dark and stormy night...
http://i.imgur.com/9u2MajP.jpg
You've found yourself wandering the moors this night; it's been a long journey from the comforts of home, and though you've come no worse for the wear, you've found yourself beset on all sides by a mighty storm furious enough to wake the sleeping gods. Hail beats down like so many countless gems, and every so often a ribbon of lightning streaks across the sky, followed by the trailing cry of thunder. If you were any less of yourself, you'd swear the wind was the mournful howl of a banshee sweeping over the land. With every plodding step through mud and grass, you find it becomes more difficult to keep your footing, and maybe you find yourself treading water once or twice.
As the thunderclaps increase in frequency, you manage to make out a tor over the horizon, suitable enough to take shelter. A single streak of lightning illuminates its silhouette, revealing the crumbling shape of a tower nested apeak the outcropping. Though climbing the tor in this weather would be a folly, the base of the outcropping seems like it would be the best place to make camp for the night. Trekking through the storm, you find yourself with a choice; do you approach the tor, or do you face the storm in search of other shelter?